I have borne my life, a life of debris and waste,
turned dark and bitter, sour and poison-laced,
to bear and carry this one’s and that one’s hefty load;
I thought light and mirth lay at the end of such road;
I thought death and dark shunned such heavenly abode.
Soon, that ache for another’s smile shall wilt and dry;
soon, that burn and sear for another’s pain and tear
shall fade and dim with time, burn into a cold sigh.
Soon, it shall all come about; soon, I won’t be near.
So, rejoice and relish in time’s imminent plot;
it writes of a time when you are but I am not.